David Wood

Gold Star - 13,800 Points (07 April 1950 / London)

Paris - Poem by David Wood

Rain washed streets in early evening
Where lovers stroll, and old men sit
At a pavement a café in the shade
Of a red canopy and dream,
Lost in their distant memories.

Paris, that eternal city,
At the going down of the day,
Where spring, about to retire
With its cold days and bright sunshine,
Bows to the approaching summer.

Where people begin to shrug off
Their winter blues and overcoats
And take a lighter, gentler step.
Not even the noise of traffic
Breaks into such tranquillity.

Topic(s) of this poem: paris

Form: Syllabic Verse

Comments about Paris by David Wood

  • Loke Kok Yee (2/6/2018 9:21:00 AM)

    You can bring Paris to those who had never been there. Your poem is so alive, it is not possible not to feel your Paris. Thanks David. (Report)Reply

    David WoodDavid Wood(2/6/2018 1:13:00 PM)

    Thank you Loke, I have been busy with building work on my house these past few weeks and have not written any poetry. I took my late wife to Paris one Valentine Day when she was my girl friend and proposed to her on the Champs Elysees by the Arc de Triiomphe. I've had three lovely spring holidays there, it's a beautiful city.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 27, 2018

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